


then all this became history

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, Romance, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7976740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy's life with Harry is just about perfect. There's only one thing missing, something he didn't even know they needed. But he knows it now, and he's determined to have it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	then all this became history

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from [The Touch by Anne Sexton](http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/anne_sexton/poems/18208.html)

The first morning Eggsy wakes up in Harry Hart's bed is a revelation. In the moment before opening his eyes he remembers everything they did last night, beginning with their first kiss. He remembers the feel of Harry's body, the taste of him, the weight of him.

A smile curving his lips, Eggsy opens his eyes. He had fallen asleep beside Harry, but at some point during the night they had apparently moved apart, each to their own side of the bed. But they're facing each other, and so the first thing Eggsy sees is Harry. 

_Oh_ , he thinks.

Harry lies on his left side, the ugly scar from Valentine's shot barely visible. His hair falls on his brow in loose curls. One bare shoulder rises above the covers. 

Eggsy just stares, drinking in the sight of him. Part of him can't believe this is real. He's gotta be dreaming.

He's still trying to convince himself of reality when Harry opens his eyes. And the most incredible thing happens then. While Eggsy watches, Harry startles a little in surprise, looking at Eggsy like he can't believe what he's seeing.

Seeing Harry looking at him like that, exactly the way he must have just looked, does something to Eggsy. Everything inside him just sort of melts then; he's all soft and warm and a feeling that takes him a little while to identify as _happy._

 _Oh_ , he thinks again. And that's when he understands how well and truly fucked he is.

"Hi," he says.

At first Harry doesn't react at all, but simply keeps staring at him. Then he smiles, the lines crinkling about his eyes, and if Eggsy wasn't already arse over tits in love with him, this would be the moment he fell. "Good morning."

Eggsy grins at him from across the bed, and then abruptly breaks out into a jaw-cracking yawn. It's completely fucking embarrassing.

But when he can see again, Harry is still there, still smiling fondly at him, and that's okay. That's more than okay, actually. So he snuggles a little further into his pillow and he says, "So you gonna wear an apron at breakfast again?"

Harry's smile widens. "Would you like me to?"

And that's how he starts living with Harry. 

****

Their life together is almost exactly how he imagined it.

In the morning they move around each other in the bedroom, getting dressed, knotting ties, doing up buttons, lacing Oxfords. Sometimes there's enough time to make a decent breakfast. Other days they're running too late even for Harry to argue, and they make do with coffee and grab something when they get to HQ.

There's always something to be done during the day. When he isn't off on a mission, Eggsy learns all the things he needs to know to be a proper Kingsman. Languages, lock picking, safecracking, rappelling safely down the side of a steep building, how to build a bomb. And on the days when he isn't actively being a spy or learning how to be one, there are tailoring lessons, shifts working at the shop, hours spent in the gym and on the track, being seen about town in one of the cover identities he's slowly crafting.

In the evening he and Harry take the bullet train back to the shop, and they talk about what they did during the day. They talk about what they're going to do for dinner. They talk about concerts Eggsy's seen, plays Harry's seen, movies they've both seen. They talk about their latest mission, the other branches of Kingsman, the other agents and staff. It's all recorded, of course, as most everything that happens on Kingsman territory is, so there's only talk, nothing else, but Eggsy is okay with that. After all, he can plainly see what he wants in Harry's eyes.

Back at home, there is dinner to be eaten, JB to be fed and walked, texts to send and return, visits to the house where his mum and Daisy live. There are video games to be played, shows on telly to be watched, books to be read. Laundry is done, the dishes are done, chores are done.

And then at last they climb the stairs together and go to bed. They fuck, they have sex, they make love. They do it standing up against the wall, in the shower, on the bed, even on the floor. He learns Harry's body, learns to feel pride when he can make Harry break his usual silence during sex and make little gasping noises, learns that he can come twice in an hour and still crave more.

They fall asleep together, Harry sometimes putting his pyjamas back on, sometimes not. Eggsy sleeps bare-chested more often than not, but he does put his sleep pants back on. It's an old habit from life with Dean, when sleeping naked meant wasting precious seconds throwing clothes on before running out to investigate when he heard angry shouting in the living room. But with Harry he feels safe, he feels like he can finally relax, like he can finally just rest.

This is the best time of the day. When he lies in the warm embrace of Harry's arms, when they are pressed together, skin on skin, bare feet tangled together. This is sleepy kisses, Harry stroking his arm, Eggsy running his fingers lightly over Harry's chest. This is a happiness he never dared dream of before.

This is life with Harry.

****

It takes him a little while to figure out what's missing.

It's getting late at night, just a regular Wednesday. The buzzer on the dryer should be going off any second now, and it's raining. Eggsy is curled up in the big armchair, feet tucked under him, texting with Ryan. They're talking about Ryan's new girlfriend, someone he's been seeing for all of two weeks.

 _We look really good together_ , Ryan texts. _See?_

The selfie shows Ryan and his girl sitting on the couch. Her head is on his shoulder, his arm is around her. They look cute together, it's true, and Eggsy grins. _Yeah you do_ , he writes back.

His first instinct is to want to send one back, something to prove he and Harry look even better together. The only problem is, he doesn't have any pictures like that.

He looks up. Harry sits on the couch, legs crossed, his tablet on his lap. He has a chess game on there he likes to play, or maybe he's working, even though he's said before that he won't do that. His collar is undone and his sleeves are rolled up, his tie and holster put away for the night.

As always, Eggsy's breath catches a little just to look at him. This is all still so new to him that he still finds himself taken unawares in moments like this, where he has to remind himself that it's real, he's actually here in this house with Harry.

But what gets him tonight, what he's just now starting to see, is that this is their normal. He has no pictures to send Ryan because he and Harry don't curl up together on the couch.

They don't hold hands. They don't put an arm around the other person. They don't sit up in bed, leaning on each other. They don't offer up random hugs, although there are plenty of kisses, this much is true. But as Eggsy mentally reviews their days together, he sees quite clearly that except for sex, they barely touch each other at all.

It's a sobering realization.

It's true that Eggsy isn't all that great with unexpected physical contact. Too many years spent with Dean have him forever on the edge of a flinch whenever someone gets too close. But Harry is different. He trusts Harry. Eggsy hasn't flinched away from him since that first day in the Black Prince.

He could almost think it's just a Harry thing, just the way he is, except that it's not true. At night Harry touches him all over, using hands and lips and tongue and his whole body. At night Harry touches him like he's starving, like he can't get enough.

And Eggsy knows he's much the same. When they're wrapped together he clings to Harry's shoulders and tangles their legs and feet. He kisses the old scars on Harry's skin and trails his fingers down Harry's arm.

But during the day, out of bed?

He doesn't get it. He doesn't know why they act like that. But now that he's identified this thing missing from their lives, he wants it with a longing that grabs him by the throat and won't let go. He wants to cosy up to Harry while they sit on the couch. He wants Harry to put an arm around him.

And well, there's only one way to get that, isn't there?

Still holding his phone, he gets up and walks toward the couch. Harry glances up at him, then returns his attention to his tablet. He's reading something there, but Eggsy can't tell if it's work-related or not.

He hesitates for a moment. Harry's oh-so-proper upright posture doesn't exactly invite what Eggsy refuses to think of as cuddling, even in his own head.

Well, fuck it.

He sits on the couch right next to Harry. He scoots over a little, and then he's pressed up against Harry, his left shoulder firmly attached to Harry's right arm.

In some surprise, Harry looks over at him. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, sure," Eggsy says. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Harry blinks at him, momentarily at a loss, which is almost unheard of for him. He doesn't move at all, and gives no sign that he either approves or disapproves of this latest development. Certainly he doesn't seem to hear the mental telepathy Eggsy has aimed in his direction: _Put your arm around me. You know you want to. Come on._

After a moment, Harry goes back to whatever is on his tablet. Eggsy counts to ten once, then twice, then swipes at his phone and starts playing the latest game he downloaded.

He's maybe a couple minutes into it when Harry says mildly, "Would you mind turning down the volume, please?"

"Oh," Eggsy says. "Yeah. Sorry." He settles himself a little on the couch, leaning more heavily on Harry's arm.

They're still sitting like that when Harry leans forward to get the remote off the coffee table. By necessity Eggsy sits up straight then; his left side still feels the warmth of Harry's presence.

Harry turns on the ten o'clock news, then sets the remote on the arm of the couch. He adjusts the volume, leans back, and casually drops his arm about Eggsy's shoulders.

Taken by surprise, Eggsy stiffens up.

"Is this all right?" Harry asks.

"Yeah," Eggsy says. He turns toward Harry, burrowing in, his head on Harry's shoulder. He smiles, even though he knows Harry can't see it. "Yeah, it's good."

****

He expects Harry to say something about it when they're in bed, but Harry never does. He maybe lays his hand a little more tenderly than usual on Eggsy's face, but that's all.

****

The next evening Eggsy goes to visit his mum and sister. Daisy has a new drawing for him, pink and yellow scribbles that look like nothing in particular. Eggsy says it belongs in a museum and Daisy pouts. "No! Onna fridge!"

Eggsy tickles her under the chin and says he'll hang it up the moment he gets home. 

He's true to his word, too. He sticks the drawing to the fridge with tacky magnets shaped like London landmarks -- one of his contributions to their house. He grabs a can of fizzy drink, then slouches into the living room. 

"And how is Miss Daisy?" Harry asks. He's on the couch again. No tablet tonight, though. He's cleaning his gun.

Eggsy sits beside him. Not leaning on him like last night, because Harry is working, but close enough to touch. "She's good, yeah. She made us a picture. She's mad that I'm going away."

Harry just hums a little in agreement.

Eggsy watches him, admiring how deft his hands are with the pistol. He loves Harry's hands, how strong they are, and those long, graceful fingers. "I told her I'd bring her back something."

"Well, it would be in keeping with your cover to visit tourist shops," Harry points out. 

"Yeah." Eggsy sips at his drink. "Think they make T-shirts that say, 'My Brother Went to Spain to Spy on Another Spy and All He Brought Me Was This Lousy T-Shirt'?"

Harry's lips twitch in a smile. "I rather doubt it."

Without really thinking about it, Eggsy switches the can to his right hand. He reaches up with his left and starts rubbing Harry's back. 

Instantly Harry freezes. His hands go very still. He looks sideways at Eggsy without moving his head.

Maybe this is why they don't ever touch each other, Eggsy thinks. Maybe there's an actual reason for it.

The movement of his hand falters a little as he remembers something Merlin said once during his training. _Most people don't have what it takes to be a spy. It requires a unique mindset, one that's usually created early in life._

He's never thought about it before. Never wondered why Harry joined Kingsman, or why he's so good at it.

 _What was his name_ , he thinks miserably. _Was it Dean? John? Robert?_

Does it even matter?

"Want me to stop?" he asks quietly.

Harry doesn't answer with words. He just resumes working, his attention seemingly focused on the gun in his hands again. But he moves through the ritual a little more slowly now, almost like he wants to draw out the moment.

Like he doesn't want Eggsy to stop.

****

The next day they fly to Barcelona. Harry checks into his hotel, a businessman with a briefcase, here for a conference before going on holiday. Eggsy takes his rucksack and finds the youth hostel on the next block. For the next two weeks they will only see each other at night, meeting in various clandestine locations to compare notes on their surveillance. The rest of the time, they'll be undercover, unable to acknowledge each other when their paths cross.

For three days that's exactly how it goes. Eggsy does his job, stays in contact with Merlin, and looks forward to his nightly meeting with Harry.

On the fourth day he's in a small airport, standing in the queue for a ticket to Palma de Mallorca. Harry is there too, frowning down at a tourist brochure; seven people are standing in between them. One of those seven is their target, Carlos Silva, a man Kingsman suspects of espionage.

At the end of the line, a woman a few years older than Eggsy stands with her son. The boy is eight, maybe nine years old. He's crying softly. Eggsy watches them while pretending to read something on his phone, and sees the woman getting steadily more irritated. 

The line shuffles forward. Silva glances impatiently at his watch. And behind Eggsy comes the unmistakable dull thud of a closed hand hitting flesh. 

The child starts crying louder. His mother grabs his arm and gives him a hard shake. She's speaking, but it's too fast for Eggsy to understand.

He's out of line before he knows he means to do it. He stalks right up to them, his heart hammering in his throat. "Basta," he says. _Enough already._

All eyes in the little terminal turn toward him -- including those of their target. He's just broken the first rule of being a spy and drawn attention to himself. 

"What are you doing?" Merlin asks over his glasses. 

The woman who just smacked her child gives Eggsy a death glare. Then with her hand firmly clamped around the boy's arm, she marches off.

Aware that everyone is still staring at him, including Carlos Silva, Eggsy gets back in line. Ahead of him, Harry's mildly curious gaze slides off him and he resumes reading the tourist brochure.

"I trust there was a reason for that little outburst," Merlin says.

"Basta," Eggsy whispers. But his voice is shaking a little as he says it. 

****

The meeting spot that night is in a tiny restaurant in Palma. It's small enough and crowded enough that he and Harry can share a table as strangers and no one will remark upon it.

Harry waits until they're halfway through their meal before asking, "What happened today?"

There are people sitting at the tables next to theirs, but they're all busy eating and talking in rapid Spanish. Silva entered the restaurant about twenty minutes ago, along with a man who must be his elusive handler, and that's one more objective accomplished. Both men sit at a table to Eggsy's left.

He feels defensive and sullen; he's already had to endure a scolding from Merlin reminding him that his impulsive behaviour at the airport could have compromised the mission. He's in no mood to hear it again from Harry. 

But with Harry, at least, he can try to explain. "I couldn't just stand there and do nothin'."

Harry sips at his wine. He looks politely interested in their conversation, but Eggsy knows that's just a cover, just how he would look if he were stuck having dinner with a total stranger and forced to make small talk. 

He thinks about his revelation from the day before. He thinks about the careful way they don't touch each other except during sex. He thinks about the white fury that seized him when he heard that woman hit her kid.

"You ever deal with something like that?" He means it to come out all casual, like he hasn't been remembering the weight of Dean's fists all day. Instead it sounds like he's choking. 

Harry looks thoughtful, as though he's actually taking the time to think about his response. And Eggsy knows he understands that the question isn't if he's ever intervened like Eggsy did today. Harry knows exactly what the _real_ question is. 

"No," Harry says. He looks at Eggsy. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

Eggsy doesn't exactly forget about the mission and their target sitting so close, but those things fade into the background. As shitty as it is that they're even having this conversation, he knows it could never happen anywhere else. Certainly not in the privacy of their home. But here, in public, when they have no choice but to keep the masks on and regulate their emotions, there is no danger of going too far down a road neither of them wants to travel. Here it's acceptable. Here it's safe.

"You know my mother died when I was quite young," Harry says. And yes, Eggsy does know this. She was a Kingsman too, although not an agent. Harry has his own medal, an older, more worn twin of the one Eggsy still sometimes wears around his neck. 

"After that I was largely left in the care of nannies and other servants," Harry says. "None of them would dare lay a finger on the master's son." He seems to consider this, almost frowning. "Quite literally."

Eggsy wants to hug him right then and there. He's incredibly relieved to know his suspicion of a Dean-like spectre in Harry's past is wrong -- but the truth is almost just as bad.

Harry maybe senses this in him, because he gives Eggsy the faintest smile. "Well. As you can probably guess, I grew up rather insufferable as a result." 

_Lonely is what you mean_ , Eggsy thinks. _Just like me._ In his case that loneliness had come crashing to a halt when Dean and his slapping hands arrived on the scene. But for Harry, it hadn't ended until Eggsy came into the picture. 

But isn't it still there? For both of them? Isn't that why they sit apart night after night, not touching?

Eggsy shakes his head and pretends to study his plate. "Fucking hell," he breathes. "Look at us."

Then louder, he says, "I ain't sorry. And I'd do it again."

Thankfully Merlin, who has been silent during all of this, doesn't take this golden opportunity to scold him yet again. And Harry just blinks at him. "Nor would I expect you to be sorry. However, it does mean we have to change our plans."

Eggsy nods. Yeah, he knows. He really fucked up when he drew Silva's attention at the airport. The original plan called for Harry to tail Silva's handler once they identified him, and for Eggsy to stay with Silva himself. Obviously now they're going to have to switch duties.

But it's fine. It's cool. He can handle change. He knows Harry can, too. That's the life of a Kingsman. Few things ever go completely according to plan.

As if reading his mind, Harry gives him a hint of a smile. Beneath the table, where no one can see, his foot presses Eggsy's calf. "We'll be fine," he says.

Reassured, Eggsy smiles back, but by then Harry has already looked away, just another disinterested diner having to eat with a stranger.

****

Alone in his bed in the hostel that night, he glowers up at the ceiling. It all makes a terrible sense now that he's put it together. He and Harry are coming from opposite ends of the spectrum, but they both have the same problem.

But he's figured it out. Hell, he had figured it out even before this mission. That photo from Ryan had made everything so clear. He knows what they're missing now. He knows how to get it.

He just has to hope Harry wants the same thing. He's pretty sure that's the case; Harry's reaction when Eggsy started rubbing his back that night is kind of a dead giveaway.

Still, for what's probably the first time in his life, he reckons he better go slowly.

Just to be sure.

****

The problem with _going slowly_ is that he just doesn't want to. He wants to sit with Harry on the couch like they did just before the mission. He wants the casual touches, the back rubs, the weight and warmth of Harry's hands on him.

He craves Harry's touch more than he could have imagined.

They're in Spain for nearly two weeks, working toward the same goal but almost always apart, before Arthur decides to bring them back in. There will be at least one more surveillance mission to gather intel on Silva, but Eggsy won't be part of it. His cover is blown. 

For now though he just packs up his shit and he goes home. It's drizzling and starting to get dark out when he unlocks the door of the house in Stanhope Mews and tosses his rucksack inside. The house is cold and smells empty, but Eggsy smiles anyway. This is his home now.

And it's good to be home.

Right now he has the house to himself; Harry took a later flight in keeping with his cover as a weary businessman returning from a colourful holiday back to grey old London. He won't be here for another two hours at least. 

It feels like an eternity. 

Eggsy climbs the stairs and goes into their bedroom. One of his jumpers lies in a pile at the foot of the bed, where he tossed it after deciding not to pack it. The room smells vaguely of Harry's cologne.

He should unpack. He should throw a load of laundry in the wash. If he starts right now he can get some of the house clean before Harry comes home. 

Instead of doing any of that, he toes off his trainers and stretches out on the bed. Not on his side, where the jumper is, but Harry's side. He breathes in deep of shampoo and pomade and the scent that is uniquely Harry. 

Two weeks without Harry is two weeks too long. 

Eggsy closes his eyes. It takes very little to imagine that Harry is here, too. In the bathroom maybe, getting ready for bed. Or downstairs still, running through his nightly ritual of making sure all the doors and windows are locked. In a moment he'll be here, trailing his fingers lightly up Eggsy's leg as he passes by.

Eggsy will shiver at the touch, even through the covers. Harry will smile, quiet and almost predatory; his sharp gaze misses nothing. He'll walk around the bed slowly, watching Eggsy the entire time.

By the time he draws the covers back and gets in bed, Eggsy will already be halfway aroused. Harry will slide his ridiculously long legs under the blankets and then roll toward him. Eggsy will be right there, reaching out to pull him closer as they start to kiss… 

"Eggsy."

He blinks, and for a moment the dream is so vivid that he actually sees Harry in bed beside him. Then his brain catches up with his eyes and he realises that Harry is in fact standing over him.

"What," he mumbles, as eloquent as ever, fucking hell. 

Harry looks down at him with a smile. "You fell asleep."

Suddenly embarrassed, Eggsy sits up. He's still on Harry's side of the bed. He feels too warm, his body too heavy; daytime naps are never a good thing for him. It takes him too long to feel right in his head again. "Sorry."

Harry cocks his head slightly. "No reason to apologise," he says. "Although I would have appreciated it if you hadn't left your rucksack where I nearly tripped over it."

Eggsy flushes again. He glances at the clock on the nightstand and grimaces when he sees it's nearly eight. Fuck, he's slept way too long; he'll never get to sleep tonight.

"You eat?" he mumbles. It wants to become a yawn.

"Not yet," Harry replies.

"Not much here," Eggsy says. They always clean out the fridge before going away. There's nothing more gross than walking into a house that reeks of spoiled food.

"We could go out," Harry suggests.

Any other night and Eggsy would say yes. But he's still leaden with too much sleep, and he's tired of only being able to look at Harry. Fuck going out. Not tonight.

"Nah," he says. He scoots toward the edge of the bed, and Harry backs up, granting him some space. "Let's just order somethin'."

So they end up just getting a pizza for dinner. Maybe not the best choice, what with all the garlic, but Eggsy doesn't really care. Besides, that's what toothpaste is for. 

They eat on the couch, which is almost unheard of, something that still makes Harry wince a little, especially when tomato sauce is involved. It's good, though. They watch a programme Harry recorded while they were in Spain, and Eggsy eats practically half the pizza by himself. 

Feeling like he's about to burst, he starts to lean back, then stops as he spies a couple loose pieces of pepperoni in the pizza box. He doesn't even think about it, just picks one up and says, "Hey."

He waits until he has Harry's attention before popping the pepperoni in his mouth. He groans out loud, his eyes half closed, and sucks on his fingers.

Harry doesn't scold him for being crass. He gazes intently at Eggsy's mouth, his eyes dark, a tension in him that wasn't there just seconds ago.

Deliberately Eggsy licks the last of the grease from his fingers. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and is rewarded with the sound of Harry breathing in sharply.

"There's one more," Eggsy says, perfectly innocent. While never taking his eyes off Harry. "You want it?"

"No," Harry says, his tone final. 

"Yeah, you do," Eggsy says. He scoops up the last piece of pepperoni and holds it up.

Harry swallows the pepperoni whole, then his tongue wraps around Eggsy's fingers, warm and intimate. He sucks on Eggsy's middle finger with nearly the same intensity he uses when he's sucking Eggsy's cock. And he never looks away either, so he sees it when Eggsy has to shift his weight against a sudden stiffy.

"Fuck," Eggsy breathes. 

Harry's tongue curls about his fingers. _Soon_ , his eyes promise.

Mesmerised, Eggsy stares back at him. He's gone hot all over, his clothes suddenly too confining. Yet he can't move, not even when Harry reaches up to encircle his wrist with one hand, holding his arm in place. Harry's thumb glides back and forth over Eggsy's pulse point, a light touch that sends shivers down Eggsy's arm and through his entire body. 

Slowly Harry's tongue drags down his fingers. He sits back, at last letting go with a wet sound. Eggsy shivers again, this time with cold, already missing the warmth of Harry's mouth. 

Before he can do more than acknowledge that cold shiver, Harry brings his hand in and starts kissing it. 

Each fingertip receives a warm kiss. Each knuckle. Harry nips at his thumb, teeth lightly scraping the skin, just enough to make Eggsy gasp, then that digit too receives a warm kiss. With a gentle but firm grip, Harry bends his arm at the wrist, enough that he can lean in and press a soft kiss to the blue veins running there. He mouths at Eggsy's pulse, then begins to suck at the skin.

Eggsy practically leaps off the couch. Already he can feel the tingling warmth beneath the skin of his wrist, almost but not quite painful. In the back of his mind he's planning ahead, glad for the cuffs of his dress shirt that will hide the mark from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. Mostly though he's just caught by the look in Harry's eyes, the pull of Harry's lips, the feel of Harry's fingers on his arm.

The mark on his wrist flames red, tender and a bit swollen. Harry kisses it gently. His fingers trail up Eggsy's arm, and that's it, that's all Eggsy can take.

He lunges inward and finally kisses Harry the way he's wanted to ever since his little tease with the pepperoni. He can taste the salt of his own skin on Harry's lips, and it turns him on even more. He shifts closer on the couch so their legs are pressed together, slides one arm around Harry's shoulders, and kisses him until the air around them is a fog of hot, greasy breath.

"I fucking missed you," he pants. Two weeks of only seeing Harry in brief glimpses, and too-short meetings at night to compare notes. Two weeks of hearing him over the Kingsman glasses, that deep honeyed voice in his ear driving him mad with want. Two weeks of waiting for this moment.

Harry blinks up at him innocently. "I never even knew you were gone."

"Bastard," Eggsy says, and kisses him again.

Harry hums in agreement into his mouth and cradles the back of his head in one large hand. He leans backward, into the corner of the couch, pulling Eggsy with him.

Eggsy goes with him happily, but the movement only serves to make him aware of the heaviness of his stomach. He shifts onto his side a little and their hips grind together; beneath him, Harry jerks in discomfort.

"Sorry," he mutters. He sits up again. "I want to, I _really_ want to, but I think…" He glances at the pizza box, coloring red with embarrassment. "I ate too much."

Harry somehow, God only knows how, manages to keep a straight face. "I see," he says gravely.

Eggsy can't even look at him, he's so humiliated.

"Well," Harry says, "these leftovers need to go in the fridge."

Eggsy just stares at nothing. He's gone and ruined everything, all because he's so greedy. Because he's so fucking stupid.

"And I think we've both had a rather long day," Harry continues. "So while I clean up in here, why don't you go take a shower?"

Might as well, he thinks. After all, it ain't like he's got anything else to do. "Yeah," he mutters.

"And then, if you are agreeable, I think I'll join you," Harry says.

Startled, Eggsy looks at him. He sees the light of amusement gleaming in Harry's eyes, and he starts to smile as he finally gets it. "Yeah," he says. "Okay."

Harry just gazes back at him with that not-at-all-innocent face, waiting for him to get going.

Eggsy springs up from the couch. Despite the huge amount of food he just ate, his step is light as he heads up the stairs.

He gets in the shower in record time, but he still has to wait a little bit. He's just rinsing the shampoo out of his hair when the shower curtain is pulled back. With a smile that's almost shy, Harry joins him, all long legs and half-hard cock.

"Oh no," Eggsy says. He shifts sideways, making room for them both. "There appears to be a stranger in my tub."

"How very observant of you," Harry says. Water is already beading up on his right side.

"Well," Eggsy says, "I _am_ a trained spy, after all." He grins; he fucking loves it when they play around like this.

In the shower, they can press up against each other, skin on skin. He loves Harry's body, still all lean muscle and quiet strength in spite of his age, loves it all the more for knowing how hard Harry works to keep it that way.

And he fucking loves it when Harry touches him, hands roaming down his back, cupping his arse, teasing along his ribcage. Before Harry he never knew how much he could love another person's hands on his body, how he could shiver in delightful anticipation and crave more.

There's not much room for two grown men in the tub, and by necessity they press close together. Which is perfectly fine by Eggsy. He kisses Harry and smiles when he realizes Harry brushed his teeth too; no more greasy pizza breath for either of them.

Sex in the shower is hot, wet, and fucking awesome. They rock up against each other, hands entwined, thrusting into the circle created by their fingers. Harry's hand rests on his lower back, holding him close. Hot water beats down on Eggsy's back as he grips Harry's shoulder for balance, rocking against him in the rhythm they found in their earliest days together; their bodies learned how to work together even while they were still trying to figure out the rest of it.

Moving this way, he can't just feel the hot glide of their cocks against each other, he can see it. He can see the dark intensity in Harry's eyes, and the way Harry's entire body shudders at the moment of release. It fills him with a rush of possessive pride and a love so strong it's almost painful.

Harry's head tips back. His hand slackens around Eggsy's. Eggsy stills the rocking motion of his hips long enough to lean in and kiss the line of his throat, and again just beneath his chin, the only place where he's starting to grow soft with age.

"Eggsy." The way Harry says his name, the precise diction slurred into post-orgasmic bliss, goes right to Eggsy's cock. He thrust into their hands with renewed need.

In the end he comes with a groan stifled by Harry's lips, his back pressed against the tile wall, hot water streaming down his skin. Harry says his name again and kisses his temple as Eggsy slumps against him, utterly spent. And Harry holds him up and holds him close, and Eggsy has never felt so safe.

****

They sit together looking over maps of the city for their next mission, planning likely routes for their target to take, escape routes for themselves should such a thing become necessary, streets where surveillance will be easier or more difficult. Halfway through, he reaches over and rubs Harry's back, just a casual gesture, like he's not even aware that he's doing it. Harry stiffens up at first, but almost immediately relaxes, and after a little while Eggsy realises he's even leaning a little to his right, angled in closer to Eggsy himself.

In the hotel where they stay for the duration of their mission, Harry orders room service while Eggsy monitors the various bugs they've placed in their target's office. He's frowning down at the screen when Harry walks over and stands beside his chair. He glances up, then freezes as he sees Harry's hand descending. He doesn't move, hardly breathes, as Harry rests his palm on the back of his neck. His heart races, yet he finds himself relaxing as Harry's thumb rubs gentle circles on the skin just above his collar.

He looks up and he smiles.

After a moment, when he can see the unasked question in Harry's eyes, Harry smiles back.

And that's it. Mission accomplished. Eggsy never has to say a word. Which is good because he wouldn't know what to say in the first place. And now he doesn't need to.

When they board the bullet train to HQ, when they go up the stairs, when they enter a room, Harry touches his arm lightly. Or his back. Not a lingering touch, certainly not guiding him forward. Just a quick reminder of his presence, a moment of connection before they go their separate ways. And when they reunite again, Eggsy smooths the impeccable line of Harry's sleeve, or adjusts his tie, or removes an invisible speck of lint from his cuffs.

At breakfast, he sets his hand on Harry's shoulder and leans down to kiss him good-morning, even though he's already done that at least three times. He straightens up with a smile and glides his hand across the breadth of Harry's shoulders as he walks past to get to his own chair. It means going the long way around the dining room table, but he's perfectly fine with that.

The kitchen is small, and they sometimes get in each other's way if they're both doing chores or putting a meal together -- but that also works in Eggsy's favour. It's so easy then to trail a hand down Harry's arm, or sway his hips and "accidentally" bump into him. It's even easier to steal a couple kisses when Harry's got his hands full and can't react except to kiss him back, eyes alight with teasing fun.

Eggsy rubs Harry's shoulders when he's tense, his feet and calves after a long day, his temples when he has a headache. Harry learns how to stroke his fingers up and down Eggsy's side without tickling him, and rubs little circles on the back of his neck so often that he's always the first one to comment when Eggsy needs a haircut.

Harry's arm becomes a familiar, weighted warmth across his shoulders, around his waist, slung over his side. Eggsy learns the perfect place to rest his head on Harry's shoulder, that just-right spot where he can lean on Harry without crushing him with his weight.

At night they get ready for bed, the ritual long since established. Only now Harry comes up behind him as he stands in front of the mirror, just the right height to press his cheek to Eggsy's temple and smile at him through the glass. And Eggsy sets a hand on Harry's back and rises up on his toes to give his cheek a quick kiss as he passes by while Harry stands at his dresser, laying out his watch and signet ring for tomorrow.

And then they climb in bed, and there, at least, everything is just the way it always was.

****

It's just another rainy Wednesday and they're curled up on the couch. The laundry should be done any minute now. Harry is almost finished with his book, the pages turning faster as he nears the end. Eggsy swipes at his phone, quietly exulting when he finally reaches his goal.

Harry doesn't look up from his book, but his hand momentarily stills. "Everything all right?"

"I'm about to level up," Eggsy says. He's got the sound muted so it doesn't bug Harry while he's reading. 

"Well done," Harry says, which is nice of him considering that he doesn't give a shit about Eggsy's game. He goes back to his book, and resumes that absent stroking of Eggsy's arm. 

Eggsy leans back on him a little more and prepares to start the next level. Before he can do that though, a text comes in from Ryan. 

_Check it out. Looking good right?_ It's a picture, Ryan with his latest girlfriend. Someone new, with different hair, a different smile. Same snuggly selfie, though.

Eggsy smiles. _Yeah_ , he writes back. 

Without moving, he holds out his phone at arm's length. "Say cheese."

The picture isn't great. He looks too defiant, too smugly happy, and there's a definite spot on his chin. Harry's eyes are a bit too wide, giving him a slightly dorky look, and the top of his head is cut off. But they're cosily wrapped up in each other, Harry's arm around him, Eggsy's head nestled on his shoulder. It's clearly not posed, but a moment of reality captured.

No, it's not a great picture.

It's perfect.


End file.
